Bloodpack's Night Off
by ghost-orchid
Summary: Blade 2. Just after Nomak's attack on the blood bank, the Bloodpack enjoys their last night off at the House of Pain.


**Disclaimer: **I don't own any of the characters from _Blade 2._

**Summary: **Before the Bloodpack teams up with Blade, they have a little weekend recreation at the House of Pain. Set after my story "Parasitic."

Bloodpack's Night Off

The driving beat of techno burst over them in a wave as Asad and Nyssa Damaskinos entered the House of Pain. They were not there for pleasure, however, but to find the five members of the Bloodpack, the elite tactical unit that Overlord Eli Damaskinos had financed and trained for two years to destroy the Daywalker, Blade. Its members had been culled from the most powerful pureblood vampire families in existence; they were the cream of the warrior crop. And tonight was that rarest of all things, a night off, so they had decided to let off some steam. _All training and no fighting makes vampires irritable company, _thought Asad as he scanned the crowd. He did not make it a habit to patronize this place. A Saracen warrior by birth, he had always embraced a more ascetic lifestyle. The House of Pain was pure vampire hedonism. Still, he could see its appeal for the Bloodpack. He just hoped they hadn't caused any scenes yet. The last time they'd paid a visit to the nightclub, Damaskinos himself had to smooth things over. Asad winced at the memory. But at least the bouncers knew enough to let them alone now.

Nyssa touched his arm lightly. "There." When she gestured across the room, he caught sight of Verlaine's dyed scarlet hair. She was dancing with Lighthammer, grinding herself into him in a blatant erotic display. His hands gripped her hips, their paleness a stark contrast to the black leather of her pants, and his cheek rested against the top of her head. As Asad and Nyssa watched, he drew one of her legs up to rest along his hip and began moving her against his thigh. Her hands slid over his chest, exposed beneath the open vest he wore, to clasp behind his neck. Exactly when the two had become involved was uncertain–he'd heard rumors that they had been lovers before Damaskinos extended the invitation to join the Bloodpack and that their families had disapproved, but what he knew for sure was that the pair loved each other, unusual for a vampire pairing. In the normal course of things parents arranged marriages to cement alliances or for other material gain. Often the couple had never even met before the ritual. Asad could not imagine either Lighthammer or Verlaine in an arranged marriage–too much passion burned between them. If either of them died, he felt sure it would destroy the other.

Priest stood at the bar, nursing a pint of Guinness the club stocked especially for him, two young vampire females bracketing him. Hearing what he was saying was impossible due to the decibel level of the music, but the females laughed and he chucked one under the chin before laying a quick kiss on the lips of the other. He kept his grip on the Guinness as he wrapped an arm around each of them and they headed for one of the private rooms upstairs. _At least he'll be easy to find later, _thought Asad. The garrulous Irishman always had a way with the ladies. And, since Verlaine was taken and Nyssa was by nature unapproachable, he hadn't had any opportunity for female companionship in quite a while.

The other three members of the Bloodpack sat at one of the tables near the bar, drinks in front of them. Asad and Nyssa started down the staircase to join them. "Do we tell them your father wants them back at the compound immediately?" he asked her over the music. He had been with Damaskinos and the lawyer Kounen when they played the recording of Jared Nomak's attack on the blood bank yesterday. Before the vampire overlord had shown him the door, Asad had heard them skirting the subject of asking Blade to help them. Of course it was a trick, a way of killing two dangerous foes at once, and he doubted its efficacy. The Daywalker was too fiery with hatred to ever work side-by-side with those he hunted.

"No," she replied. "This could be the last happy night of their lives. I won't cut it short. My father will understand."

Indeed, he might. He indulged Nyssa in most things. Plus, one or all of the Bloodpack could die in a pitched battle with the Reapers or with Blade. He had no heart to stop them from enjoying themselves. When he looked across the room again, Verlaine and Lighthammer had vanished. Upstairs, he presumed. How long it had been since he had been with a female, but he had chosen this way of life. He did not really regret his aloneness, but felt it keenly in places like this.

Snowman saw them approaching and requisitioned two extra chairs from a nearby table. The two men sitting near them were too busy French-kissing with razor blades to notice his theft or care if they did. Asad sat down next to Snowman, while Nyssa sat next to Reinhardt. Chupa lifted a bottle of Cuervo Gold to his lips and swigged from it before asking, "What are the two of you doing here? This doesn't seem like your kind of place."

"Everyone needs a night off from time to time," Nyssa told him. He lost the impulse to question her further when a female with long, curling blonde hair bumped her hip into his shoulder and asked him to dance. He flashed his fangs in a smile and dragged her onto the floor, where he pulled her tight against him and they began grinding away.

Like Asad, Snowman abstained from drink. He was the member of the Bloodpack that Asad felt closest to, because they understood each other best. Both of them were born warriors, every extraneous interest or emotion pared away, pure in purpose. All the other fighters felt virulent hatred for the Daywalker, due to personal losses at his hands or simply at his arrogance in killing their kind, but he and Snowman simply fought him because he was a worthy opponent and the battle would bring them great honor, whether or not they survived it. Because of this like-mindedness, Asad planned to tell Snowman what was happening with Damaskinos and his plan before the others. He could be trusted not to reveal that information. Plus, he wanted Snowman's opinion on the plan. But that conversation was not for Nyssa's hearing. She followed her father, sometimes blindly, in his opinion, and would oppose anything that she thought might compromise his plans. "Nyssa, Snowman and I will wait for you outside. The noise in here is too much."

She nodded. "As you wish." The two men moved away, leaving her alone with Reinhardt.

Nyssa had never spent much time with Reinhardt. Most vampires gave him a wide berth, due to his reputation as the killer of his father, the overlord of Vienna. That he was avenging the murder of his mother made the tale even more sordid in the eyes of the vampire world. She knew he'd never spoken of it with anyone in the Bloodpack, so she could only assume the pain was still too fresh for him. After all, it had only been eighty years ago. The Council had stripped him of his right to the Vienna overlordship afterward, and since then he'd traveled all over the world, usually working as someone's hired killer. In a sense, that's what he was to Damaskinos as well, but at least here he led the team.

He spoke, and she became aware that she'd been staring. Wouldn't do for him to get any wrong ideas. He'd never shown the sexual interest in her that both Chupa and Priest had, and she wanted to make sure that continued. "So, Nyssa, what brings you here? And don't tell me you had a need to go dancing. Asad would never be here if it weren't business."

"Time for that later," she told him. "What are you drinking?"

He raised his glass, the amber liquid sloshing around. "Bourbon," he replied before taking a sizable mouthful.

Something seemed off in his behavior. Whenever Nyssa had dealt with him before, he'd exuded an aura of swaggering machismo, arrogant toughness, but tonight that was gone. He seemed quiet, maybe even depressed. "Is there something wrong, Reinhardt?"

A tiny smile curved his lips as he set the glass down. "It's an anniversary for me, but not one I want to celebrate."

"Go on."

"What are you, the team psychiatrist?" But he put no real anger behind his words.

"You want to talk. If you didn't, you wouldn't have mentioned anything. If it makes you feel better, I promise I won't breathe a word of this to anyone." A waitress came by, lugging a tray of beer bottles, and Nyssa snatched one as she passed. If Reinhardt planned to unload heavy emotional baggage, some alcoholic fortification was in order.

"I'll hold you to that." She saw reflections of herself in those sunglasses he affected, even inside the club. Maybe he couldn't lie with his eyes. Before he continued speaking, he refilled his glass and sipped at the bourbon. "Twelve years ago today I met a woman I can't forget. She's still inside me. Like fucking cancer. I'll be rid of her when I die."

Of all the things he might have said, this was the last thing Nyssa expected. Woman trouble? Reinhardt? Except for a few discreet affairs while he lived in Vienna, she didn't recall ever hearing him linked with a woman. Behind closed doors people had speculated that he was gay or just asexual, but that hadn't seemed right to her either. Especially not when she heard the pain in his voice when he talked about this mystery woman. It seemed the head of the Bloodpack kept secrets well. "What was her name?"

"Carolyn." She sensed he regretted speaking the moment the name left his lips and wanted to shut the conversation down.

She decided to ignore it. "So what went wrong? Was she married?"

He laughed. "She was single. And she loved me. She never came out and said it, but I know she did. She never would have kissed me that last time if she didn't. Endangering herself that way..." His voice trailed off as he stared into the glass in his hand.

"Was it your past, the incident with Stefan?" That would give any vampire female pause. The father had killed the mother in a fit of insanity, so what prevented the son from possibly doing the same?

"No, she didn't know anything about my past. We never really got to the point of exchanging personal histories. Too busy killing crazies and trying to keep from getting infected by parasites for that. But I don't think it would have mattered to her. She would have understood." Nyssa wondered if she had missed part of the conversation. Crazies? Parasites? But Reinhardt continued. "She reminded me of my mother. Not in some sick Oedipal way, just her personality. Mama was the only truly decent person I've ever known, the only person who loved me. And I let her die. If I'd just been there, I could have killed him before he got near her and everything would have been different. I failed her." He sighed and took another drink. "Seems like I fail women a lot." He slurred the last few words a bit. Was he drunk? She had never seen him drunk before. This woman must have gotten under his skin in a big way.

"So what was the problem between the two of you? It sounds like you had everything going for you."

Reinhardt put a finger to his lips and leaned in close to her. "You swore you'd never tell, right? And I'm going to trust you, God knows why. Tonight I feel like talking. The problem was that she didn't know I was a vampire. All she saw was a man she trusted."

The shock tingled through her. When she finally managed to speak, her voice wobbled. "Reinhardt, was she human?"

His chin tilted up, defiance in every line of his body. "Yes, she was."

Nyssa tried hard to process the shock. Whether he said the words or not, he'd fallen in love with a human. Had he killed her? Had he turned her? For a moment she wondered if her father should know about this, but she dismissed the notion. She had promised him silence, and he would have it. "What happened to her?"

Slowly he shook his head. "I'm not discussing that, Nyssa. I can't. The only thing that matters to me is that I lost her. Loved her and lost her. But it's an old story." With a quick motion of his hand he tossed down the last of the bourbon in his glass.

"I never would have thought that about you." Never would have thought of him loving a human, never would have thought him anything other than the cold, tough bastard he worked so hard to be, never would have thought him wounded by the loss of a creature so transitory by their standards.

"Yeah. I have unexpected depths." Slowly he raised a hand to her cheek and brushed his fingertips against it. "Who would have thought you have darker skin than a woman who was born to stand in sunlight?" Reinhardt's touch lingered there for a few instants before his hand dropped and he seized the bottle of bourbon. "Enough of this. I'm going to find someone to fuck, and when you're ready for us to go back to the compound, just knock on the door."

The moment of communication dissolved, and Nyssa knew he'd never speak of this again with her or anyone. All she could do was watch as he stopped by the bar and spoke briefly to a female with long crimped waves of blond-brown hair who wore a bright red PVC dress. She nodded and preceded him up the stairs to one of the private rooms. Though Reinhardt never looked back at her, she knew picking up the vampire woman was for her benefit. He'd said it himself–his human stayed inside him. He'd never be rid of her until he died. Loving humans was a tragedy. They possessed the delicacy of butterflies, but one knew better than to love a butterfly. What happened after the third day, when its allotted span was up? What was left, other than memories and pain? But he was no stranger to either of those. Nyssa leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, wishing the burning there was only tiredness instead of the tears he'd never shed for himself or his ephemeral love.


End file.
